


beyond flight's edge

by orphan_account



Series: among the clouds [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2672816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The burn in your lungs as you jumped and dashed over and between the crystal white buildings of Tokyo, elated breaths escaping you with each footfall, each sprint, energy buzzing through your entire body as you evaded militias. The assurance that gravity would catch you after each well-placed bounce, each dive, each drop, rolling onto the white rooftops of skyscrapers only to continue running to your next destination, the cloudless and bright atmosphere surrounding you, alive and sure in its presence.</p>
<p>Home was the sky, and Haruka had never felt so free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 Flightless.

The choking sensation of being tied down, chained to the earth as you were forced to remain inside your house and comply to your parents’ wishes and expectations. The day-in, day-out routine of going to school, eating your mother’s carefully prepared breakfast, doing your homework and going to bed in preparation for the following day. Rinse, wash, repeat.

Haruka hated it.

Ever since he was little, he had been shackled to Iwatobi, expected to follow everyone else and supress his own wishes; expected to call this life, which reminded him of prison, home.

Home wasn’t the solid, sure ground Haruka’s parents had bound him to, abandoning him at a young age for voyages in search of their own freedom. Home wasn’t the small town he’d lived in his entire life, where no disturbances or strange events ever occurred, and where everyone knew everyone. Home was not his grandmother’s gentle but tethering presence looking after him until Haruka turned fourteen and there was no longer anyone to greet him, until his parents picked him up in little Iwatobi and he followed them to Tokyo, never looking back.

No, Haru thought, blue eyes twinkling as he swung his legs in one swift motion, skipping over a pipe and dashing past angry militias.

Home was the sky.

The feeling of flying, zigzagging through the clear blue skies, cold air whipping past your face and your hair as you ran, free. The burn in your lungs as you jumped and dashed over and between the crystal white buildings of Tokyo, elated breaths escaping you with each footfall, each sprint, energy buzzing through your entire body as you evaded militias. The assurance that gravity would catch you after each well-placed bounce, each dive, each drop, rolling onto the white rooftops of skyscrapers only to continue running to your next destination, the cloudless and bright atmosphere surrounding you, alive and sure in its presence.

Home was the sky, and Haruka had never felt so _free_.

 

* * *

 

“Makoto.”

The young man looked up from his work, warm smile greeting Haru as always.

There were some things, Haruka mused, closing the door behind him and giving a small wave in return, that he supposed he wouldn’t mind not changing.

“Welcome back, Haru-chan. Did you deliver the letter alright?”

And there were other things he wished would change.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Haruka gave his best friend an irked look at the perpetual childish honorific plastered at the end of his name. Removing his carrier bag and carelessly throwing it on the ground, he plopped himself next to Makoto on the sole chair in the small room, an old couch battered down by the ages.

“Yeah.”

“Not too many militias this time?” Makoto asked, pouring them each a cup of tea on the coffee table before them. He pushed Haruka’s mug forward, light blue and adorned with the picture of a dolphin. Haruka, taking it gratefully, deeply inhaled the calming scent wafting from his cup.

“The usual,” he supplied, taking a sip of his tea. Makoto hummed in relief.

“That’s good. What about the payment?”

Haruka simply turned his head in his bag’s direction, exhaustion from his run slowly seeping in. Makoto nodded and got up from his seat.

“And you’re sure no one followed you?” Makoto continued, rifling through the contents in the courier bag. Haruka sighed, putting his mug back on the coffee table and slumping back in his seat, closing his eyes tiredly.

“Yes, Makoto. I made sure.”

His friend, getting back up with a wad of crumpled bills in hand, smiled at him in apology.

“Sorry, Haru-chan. You know I worry. What we do isn’t exactly safe. Or legal.”

Haruka decided to ignore Makoto’s last words in favour of lying down on the couch, bringing his hands under his head and yawning.

“Drop the chan,” he grumbled drowsily before succumbing to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a time, Haruka thought, when everything was normal.

He himself had not been happy with normal, of course – his small town routine ingrained in his head, the only thing breaking the monotony of his life being lengthy baths, when his grandmother allowed it.

So when his parents came back one day, and brought the then fourteen year old Haruka with them on their next trip, Tokyo was more than a welcomed change. Granted, he didn't usually appreciate sudden changes in his life, but the prospect of leaving Iwatobi for a chance to leave his repetitious life was worth it. And what a change Tokyo was, with its overwhelming skyscrapers reaching the infinite blue skies and its pristine white streets crowded with civilians and workers.

He just didn't know how much of a change it would be, Haruka thought wryly as he dashed past a dazed soldier and slid under a set of pipes, rolling back to a mad run in preparation for the jump before him, not bothering to look behind him.

Huffing as he leapt to the next rooftop, courier bag flopping against his hip with every footfall, Haruka landed lightly on his feet, quickly checking his surroundings. He continued his race to his destination when he saw the only thing greeting him was the white expanse of buildings and the blue of the sky, the sun shining down brightly. Today was an uneventful day, all things considered.

Makoto had told him this morning that the message to be delivered today was one of the most important ones yet – destined to one of the bigger rebel groups of the city. If all went well, Haruka and Makoto would get a good deal out of this assignment.

Looking to his left as he kept on running, Haruka internally groaned when he spotted a guard standing a few feet away. This one had seen him, and had a gun at the ready.

Not stopping, Haruka ran straight for the guard, who balked a bit at the unexpected behaviour. Taking advantage of this, Haruka leapt, swiftly kicking one leg out and smashing his foot against the militia’s face, who groaned in pain and let go of his gun in surprise. Grabbing it in midair, Haru shot the man and quickly dropped the gun as he continued his mad dash, too cumbersome for him to keep it in his run.

_Just two buildings left…_

Scanning his surroundings as best as he could, Haruka turned right for the vent that would lead him to his goal, situated further down. So far, everything had gone without a hitch; the numbers of guards encountered was roughly the same as usual, and Haruka wasn't feeling too tired.

That was before he caught sight of the blur in front of him running at him full speed.

Encountering another runner on duty was rare; Haruka had only seen a handful of them in his year of working as one, and they usually kept their distance from each other. There was no time to stop and talk; a runner’s job was to deliver their courier in the fastest and most efficient route possible, and Tokyo was a big city.

Which is why Haruka balked and faltered in his step when he noticed that this one was headed directly for him.

Upon closer look, the man – he was close enough that Haruka could tell the figure was masculine in stature – didn't look like a runner; he didn't carry the customary yellow carrier bag, nor did he wear the usual white track pants and black shirt associated with this line of work.

But he was fast, maybe even faster than Haruka, and he wasn't stopping, and _what was he doing_ , and that’s when Haruka’s flight instincts took in, prompting him to sprint away from him, red sneakers squeaking against the white tiles of the rooftop in steady thumps, heaving breaths being sucked out of him with each swing of his arms and each hike of his legs. Leaping to his right, Haruka ran across the wall facing him in the hopes to catch his pursuer off guard, only to be the surprised one when he heard sure footsteps following right behind him onto the wall.

This guy wasn't a runner, but he was _good_.

Skipping to the side and off the wall with a grunt, Haruka landed unevenly back on the floor, wobbling a bit before continuing his run, hoping to fend off this mysterious pursuer, zigzagging between walls and sliding under pipes. He could hear the man following him closely, confident footsteps matching his stunts and jumps.

He was so _close_. Just a bit further and he would reach the vent and send the letter away, if only this man weren't right behind him–

Those hopes were dashed when a heavy weight tackled him to the side, effectively toppling his body to the ground and causing his head to hit the floor with a heavy _crack_. Not missing a beat, Haruka struggled to get his attacker off, kicking and hitting wherever he could, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his skull.

The figure, features blurred by the dizziness slowly overwhelming Haruka, grunted with each successful punch to his body, but managed to straddle Haruka’s hips and pin his wrists to the floor.

Haruka _hated_ being bound.

Renewing his efforts, Haruka bucked his hips upwards in an attempt to throw the man off, but fatigue from his run and the fight was becoming apparent in his waning strength. Panting heavily, he blinked to get past the haze from his pounding headache, staring up at the man over him.

Sharp teeth settled into a wicked grin and deep burgundy eyes were staring back at him, angled face framed by wisps of chin-length ruby hair.

“Hey there, stranger,” the man panted, humming mockingly. “You’re pretty feisty, you know that? Took me a lot more effort to get to you than I thought it would.” Haruka squinted up at him in distaste. “And you throw a mean punch too, shit,” he added, swearing in English.

Haruka didn't answer, merely wriggling around in the hopes to get this man off him. To his frustration, he didn't budge one bit. This guy was stronger than he looked.

“Stop moving; I’m just gonna take one little thing of yours then I’ll be out of your hands.”

With that, quick as lightning, the man got up, grabbed Haruka’s courier bag and sprinted away. Haruka, clumsily getting up, winced when he lightly touched the spot where he had hit his head, fingers coming back sticky with blood when he retracted his hand. Fighting off the wave of nausea hitting him, Haruka wiped his hand on his white track pants and started running in pursuit of his attacker.

He needed that letter delivered or he was _dead_.


	3. Chapter 3

Haruka had been warned, on his first day as a trainee, to be wary of guards and what were called chasers. The former were usually clumsy and weren't exactly prepared for runners, his mentor had told him, but the latter, on the other hand...

They were rare, and often enough they were vicious, light on their feet and quick in their wits, making them hard opponents when encountered. No one was sure who they worked for, but their main goal was clear enough - intercept courier and keep it for themselves or deliver it to a third party. And one thing was certain: anyone who encountered a chaser would inevitably fail their expedition, always returning to their patron empty-handed.

_Not me_ , thought Haruka, panting heavily as he desperately pursued the man, his figure slowly but surely shrinking as he gained ground, finally disappearing when he swung his legs over a ledge and jumped over to the next rooftop, running to the door leading to the stairs inside the building. _Not me_ , he thought, stopping and leaning forward, putting his hands on his knees as he heaved deep gulps of air and tried not to get sick, the pain from his injury too grand to ignore.

This delivery was the most important one yet, Makoto had said. If it didn't get to its destination on time, he and Haruka were toast. And Haruka didn't want his best friend getting hurt simply because he hadn't been fast enough.

With that thought in mind, Haruka sucked in one last breath before settling himself again, lightly jogging to where the man had gone. He'd been in this area before in previous treks, so he had a pretty good idea of its buildings' layout.

And if he wasn't mistaken, Haruka smiled at the thought, the chaser was headed right towards a dead end.

 

* * *

 

Grinning, Rin pumped his fist in the air in victory and whooped, going down the stairs two by two in rapid steps. Sousuke had told him their meeting point was in a vacant flat, on the thirtieth floor. Checking the numbers on the wall as he turned around the corner and continued down the flight of stairs, Rin figured he’d get there in less than five minutes. _Floor 52…_

This had gone on a lot easier than he’d expected, to be honest. Sousuke had warned him beforehand that their target was known to be one of the fastest runners in the city.

And he was, Rin recalled, all grace and speed in his run, footsteps sure and precise, never missing their mark with each stunt and obstacle. It’s as if the man belonged in the air, was part of the skies, movements nimble and quick but powerful, like a strong gust of wind. It was kind of incredible, really.

_Still no match for me_ , though, Rin pondered, cocky grin plastered on his face as he continued running down, the stolen bag bouncing against his hip with each step confirming his thoughts. Pulling a small device from his pant pocket, Rin clicked on its button as he jumped over one flight of stairs in his excitement. A blinking blue light appeared over it, and a small blue hologram materialized over it, Sousuke’s figure coming into view.

_“Yo.”_

“Hey,” Rin panted, checking once again the floor numbers. Floor 45; nearly there. “I got the package, I’m on my way.”

_“Cool. I’ll be there in 20 minutes,”_ Sousuke’s ghost answered him. Rin gave him an incredulous look.

“Hah?! How come you’re not already here?!”

_“I didn’t think you’d be successful,”_ his best friend told him, smirk on his face. Rin grumbled, swearing when he tripped over a step and nearly fell, slamming against the wall before regaining his footing and continuing his run. The hologram fizzled slightly at the commotion.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? Whatever, I’ll see you in 20 minutes, I guess,” Rin didn’t wait for Sousuke to reply, clicking his device shut and shoving it back in his pocket in irritation.

Stopping for a bit to catch his breath, Rin looked up and saw that he was only three floors over their meeting point. Deciding to walk the rest of the way, he failed to notice the shadow of a figure quietly following him, two flights of stairs back.

So when he reached his destination, _floor 30, door 3021_ , opened the unlocked door and stepped inside the empty room, he jumped a mile high when he heard the sound of the door closing by itself, followed by a soft but firm voice right behind him.

“I need that bag.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is longer than all three previous chapters combined...

Looking back on it, it was a reckless decision to follow the chaser and corner him somewhere where he only had vague idea of the surroundings, while he was alone. While his attacker had been equally matched to him in speed, Haruka was injured and tired. On top of that, the dizziness and nausea kept coming in even bigger waves since he’d kept on exerting himself. Makoto would have told him to rest.

But Makoto also knew, just as much as Haruka did, that his job as runner came first, over his own well-being. They both needed their job fulfilled, and Haruka had not once ever failed one of his assignments.

Today was going to be no different; he was going to deliver that package whether this chaser liked it or not, and Haruka was nothing if not stubborn.

So he kept on running, following the ruby-haired man as close as possible without getting noticed or bothering his wound even more, stifling his breaths as much as possible. He swore under his breath when he heard the man talking to someone through a weird device (which was odd; any electronic devices were tapped by the government, so either this machine was rigged or the man was working with Tokyo.) asking him to meet, but heaved a quiet sigh of relief when the other stranger said he wouldn’t reach the apartment for a while. That gave him twenty minutes to reach the chaser, retrieve his bag and leave the premises. He had to be quick for this; he didn’t know if he’d be able to grab his bag back with two opponents.

Admittedly, the man's reaction when he clicked the door shut once he'd reached the apartment was funny, but Haru only let out a huff, lips flitting upwards for a moment in slight amusement before he steeled his expression once again, spreading his stance.

The man, who before had eyes wide open and a hand clutched to his chest in fright, was now glaring at him.

"Jesus, you followed me? Heh, didn't think you'd be able to. That hit on your head looked pretty painful."

Haruka simply frowned and ignored the pulse in his head. Steeling himself, he clenched his hands into fists, cool blue gaze holding the smoldering red one staring back at him.

"That bag is mine."

The man huffed out a laugh before placing a hand on his hip, the other fiddling with the bag strap hanging off his shoulder.

"You mean this thing? Nah, I don't think so, not anymore. Got it fair and square, if you ask me," he sneered. Haruka wasn't asking. "If you want it back, you're gonna have to fight me for it, buddy."

Haruka sighed. He didn't have time for this.

Pressing back on his heels, he leaned backwards before pouncing, heading straight for the man in one powerful jump. The chaser dodged him and began running further into the empty flat, the sound of his heavy steps echoing against the white walls. He laughed, looking back at Haruka mockingly.

"Let's see what you got, runner boy!"

Ignoring the man's whoops of excitement and jeers, Haruka focused on his breathing and his pace. His wound had reopened from his previous jump, and he could feel blood trickling down to the back of his neck. This wasn't boding well for him.

They were running along a corridor, the room illuminated by the windows stretched out along their left. If the layout in this apartment was similar to the ones Haruka had been in previous expeditions, then the corridor ran in a square, surrounding the actual rooms in the flat.

If he wanted his letter back, he needed to catch the chaser before they'd done a full lap of the corridor and reached the entrance, Haruka mused as he saw the man disappear around the corner. Which meant he'd have to go inside and cross the rooms through the door to his right he'd just spotted. Perfect.

Just as Haruka had figured out his next course of action, he saw a hovercraft right outside the flat out of the corner of his eye. The pilot was looking right at them, hands poised on what Haruka knew what was a trigger to release a set of small but dangerous projectiles. Shit.

Thinking quickly, Haruka sprinted, reaching the door in one burst of energy and yanking it open before he dove into the room. The resounding boom and following crash of the windows breaking into a million pieces resonated through the walls of the apartment and through Haruka’s entire being just as he slid on the floor, hands instinctively braced over his head. Laying still for a while before poking his head up, Haruka checked his surroundings for a moment and sprung back up, wanting to leave before the pilot would fire another round. His breaths were sharp and his heart was beating a mile a minute, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he quickly checked his surroundings.

The pilot's aim had been slightly off, and the projectile had veered to the side, away from Haruka. Despite that, the impact had been tremendous enough for the wall behind him to collapse, white debris scattered on the floor and a cloud of sawdust permeating the air. It served as an advantage on his part, since the pilot probably couldn’t check to see if he had hit him or the chaser, but it was equally inconvenient for him, since he couldn’t see much past an arm’s length in front of him. He had to get out of here, and fast. Coughing, Haruka waved an arm in front of him and quickly made his way through the wreckage, trying to find a door that would lead him out of this room.

How the hell had that pilot seen them, and how had they not noticed him beforehand? Haruka had a sharp eye for militia, and he had made sure to take a look at his surroundings outside before following the chaser into the building. And why the pilot? Although his mentor had briefly warned him about those, he’d never encountered one before, only foot soldiers. At least he hadn't gotten hit by anything. Yet.

This day was just getting worse and worse.

Haruka quickly adjusted his current plans in his mind as he leapt over a fallen couch, reaching for a white door he’d spotted. Avoid being seen by the hovercraft, find the chaser, grab the bag and then  _leave_. He certainly wasn’t sticking around any longer than he had to.

Grasping the doorknob and swinging the door open, he was greeted by what once used to be a kitchen, he supposed, glancing at the damaged fridge and the remnants of counters before continuing his run for the next door, which was a little ways away from where he stood. Sweat had started to form at the back of his neck and on the top of his head, feeling small twinges of pain every time he felt some of it trickle down onto his open wound, and his breaths were getting more ragged as he ran to his next destination, but he simply gulped and trudged on, determined to get back what was his.

When Haruka opened this next door, he felt a large mass collide against him, and he toppled back with a grunt, hitting the floor once more. Thankfully, he hadn’t hit his head again, and the floor where he had landed was mostly bare safe for a few sharp pieces of plastered wall, but the impact still hurt, his limbs throbbing with a dull pain. Haruka quickly ignored the soreness he was feeling, however, pushing it at the back of his mind because _now was not the time_ and he blinked his eyes open. The breath was knocked out of him when he felt whatever had collided into him roll off of him, hearing a stream of swears to his right.

“Fucking _fuck_ ,” the figure grumbled, and Haru tried to stave off his dizziness, got back up with a grunt, because that was the distinctive voice of the chaser, who was surprisingly still alive and currently yelling into the same odd device from before, waving his arms frantically as he spoke.

“Sousuke, don’t bother coming, there’s – _no_ , don’t come, you ass!” Haru thought he could spot some sort of blue figure floating over the mechanism. “The building’s a wreck, you wouldn't even be able to get in, and there’s some pilot – yeah, _I know_. Fuck. Okay! YES, I GOT IT.” The man angrily slammed a button from the device and the hologram fizzled out.

The world was a bit blurry around the edges, and Haruka hoped this would be the last time he’d get knocked off his feet for the day, because he didn't think he could handle a fourth fall.

“Where’s the bag,” he said.

The man turned around, a deep frown on his face, frantically running his hand through his hair, disheveling it in the process. He looked mostly unscathed from the explosion, save for a few scrapes and bruises here and there.

“I lost it,” he growled out, "slipped off my shoulder when I dodged the guy's aim," and Haruka wanted to bang his head against the wall in exasperation, only one, he already had an injury and didn’t want to aggravate it, two, that wasn’t very characteristic of him to do so, and three, he didn't have time to vent his frustration because _he needed to get out now_. He wasn’t about to forget the threat of a government pilot looming over their heads at the moment.

So Haruka simply pushed past the man, ignoring his surprised yell in favour of leaving him to his own devices, and made his way to the door, intent on getting back his messenger bag. He ran down the corridor, surrounded by debris and white walls on his left and the pristine blue sky and crystal skyscrapers on his right, the sun illuminating the apartment through the windows.

No pilot in sight yet. That was a good sign.

Haruka turned left and jumped over a mound of rubble, coughing at the clouds of dust he ran into and skidding over small chunks of smashed window glass. He was getting closer to the site of the impact, and could hear the faint buzzing of the hovercraft nearby.

That’s when he spotted a bright yellow amidst a pile of white.

Picking up the pace, Haruka zeroed in on the bag, pinpointing a huge gap next to it, a few windows having been smashed to pieces during the impact and littering the floor with glass. That would be his point of exit, then. Quick and easy, Haruka thought.

Or not.

Just then, Haruka felt a gust of air whoosh next to him, and when he looked to the side, he saw the chaser running next to him, keeping pace, sharp teeth glinting in the light with his ferocious grin.

“I don’t think so, runner boy,” he taunted, not even once trace of being out of breath showing through his speech. “That bag is mine.”

Haruka felt a surge of determination course through him, and turned back without replying, eyes on the yellow courier bag. Swinging his legs and arms with one last burst of energy, Haruka sprinted, a few meters left between him and his goal, ignoring the whoop of excitement from the chaser, who had also picked up the pace.

They were now neck to neck, both running as fast as they could, swiftly kicking their feet against the ground, and Haruka didn't question the sudden sense of competition buzzing between him and this man as they ran, could only feel the burn in his lungs, the throb in his head, the blur of the walls whizzing past him, the bright flow of red hair to his right, the speck of yellow growing and growing as he got closer to it…

The faint buzz of the hovercraft nearing closer and closer, until it turned into a loud thrum, until it was right in front of them, and Haruka thought for the nth time that day, _fuck_ as he skidded to a halt, the remnants of a warning lodging itself in his throat as the chaser kept on running, right into the pilot’s range of fire.

“Wai–!”

Haruka saw the man’s eyes widen as he finally noticed the pilot, saw his legs stop in their race and jerk in the sudden change of movement as he attempted to leap to the side to avoid getting hit, and his eyes flickered to the gap in the windows, to the distance between him and the chaser, to the pilot, who was still aiming, planning to fire at the perfect moment. He took one breath, and in two leaps was right next to the man, was grabbing his arm and dragging him to the gap, running as fast as he could.

He hoped, from the stunts he had previously seen, that the chaser would be able to follow him, because otherwise the man was screwed.

“The bag, you asshole!” the man yelled, eyes frantically going back and forth between the object in question and Haruka, looking at once surprised and irate at the intervention.

“Forget the bag,” Haruka yelled back, his grip on the man’s arm slackening when he was sure the man wouldn’t do something idiotic like go back to retrieve the damn thing. He would’ve liked to get it as well, but preferred getting back to Makoto in one piece.

Just as they heard the first ricochets of bullets fly behind them, barely missing them, they reached the windows, and Haruka leapt, using the momentum to sprint down the side of the building, steps quick and precise as he dashed away from the hovercraft, hearing the telltale footsteps of the chaser behind him.

They kept on running, footsteps getting faster and faster and they kept going down, their shoes a sharp contrast against the bright reflection of the sun against the skyscraper windows. The hovercraft had turned around and was following them, and Haruka was scanning their surroundings to find somewhere to jump on, breaths quickening when he felt the gust of air whoosh around him, strands of hair flitting around his face, signaling the hovercraft was getting too close.

He could hear the breaking of glass behind him as more bullets flew past them, felt one whiz by his face, grazing his cheekbone, and that’s when Haruka found a platform to leap on, sprinting towards it. He leapt, but his foot slipped just as he did so, arms flailing slightly to regain his footing, only his feet now met nothing but the air, and Haruka heard the panicked yelp behind him as he fell, diving head first towards the rooftop of the building he had seen. At this angle he would only just graze the side of the platform, but a burst of adrenaline coursed through him, and Haruka reached out, grabbing the edge with one hand, grunting in pain when he felt the force from the sudden halt of his fall course through his arm. He swayed, looked down, seeing the white of the streets, and looked back up, squinting at the blue expanse of the sky and the brightness of the sun in his eyes.

Gritting his teeth, Haruka swung his other arm to the ledge, grabbing it now with both hands and heaving himself up towards the platform, feeling sweat bead down his temple at the effort. He saw the shadow of the chaser above him, leaping without fail on the platform and rolling on the floor before standing up, quickly running back to Haruka to grab him and pull him up the rooftop of the building.

Haruka rolled onto his back, heaved a few quick breaths, and blinked back the nausea and the darkness that was creeping up his vision and got back onto his feet, ignoring the chaser, who had his hands on his knees and was huffing out _you’re heavier than you look, jesus_. They weren't done yet. The hovercraft was still following them.

He saw a door leading to the bottom of the building. His best bet right now was to escape the hovercraft’s sight by running in between buildings, and not over their rooftops, as he was prone to do. Haruka jogged towards the door, ignoring the newfound pain in his right arm, and glared when he saw the man right behind him.

“Don’t follow me,” he said, and the chaser let out a derisive laugh.

“Not like I have a choice, runner boy. I don’t plan on getting turned into Swiss cheese by that guy over there, and the only way out is through that door, so we’re stuck together until we reach the bottom of this building. Then I’ll be out of your hands, promise.”

The man had a point, Haruka grudgingly thought, so he only turned his head to the side and replied, “Don’t call me that.”

“What should I call you then, hmm? I don’t really know your name, _runner boy_ ,” the man teased as they stopped, and Haruka swung the door open with his good arm. He turned back, ready to shoot back a reply to the chaser, whom he was now face to face with and who was sporting a lecherous grin.

Just as he opened his mouth, the man’s smile turned into an open grimace and his eyebrows shot up in surprise and confusion, his burgundy eyes clouding with a hint of… pain?

As if in slow motion, the man coughed, and Haru recoiled when something warm sprayed against his face. He brought his hand up to his cheek, and when he lowered it, it came back sticky with a smear of red. Blood.

Haru’s eyes widened a fraction, and looked up towards the chaser, who had his hand on his side, and then behind him.

A foot soldier was standing a few feet away, hands poised on a gun.

Shit. Haruka had forgotten to check his surroundings before heading towards the door. That, and the chaser had been too loud as they had jogged towards the door, annoucing their presence. The fact that they were being chased by a not so quiet hovercraft probably hadn’t helped either.

Haruka quickly slammed the metal door shut and dragged the chaser down the stairs leading to the inside of the building, just as they heard a few more shots, bullets spearing holes through the door and the space where they had been standing mere seconds ago.

The chaser groaned in pain with every step, breaths getting ragged and wet as Haruka lead them to another door, towards the flights of stairs. The building was smaller than the one where they had fought for the bag, but still…

Haruka looked back towards the man, whose face was getting paler by the minute, the hand pressed against his side stained red with the trickle of blood seeping past his fingers. He glanced back from where they had come from, and could hear the distinct sound of hurried footsteps, heavy and ominous.

If they ran down the stairs, they’d be quicker to evade to militia, Haruka mused, but by the looks of it, he wasn’t sure if the chaser had enough energy left in him to go through so many floors, and the noise would probably alert anyone who was currently in this building, which Haruka absolutely did not want. Runners were quick and discreet. On the other hand, if they took the elevator right next to the stairs, they’d have more time to recover and devise a small course of action, but the militia would then take the stairs and probably be waiting for them at the bottom of the building.

In any case, Haruka didn’t think they were going to part ways now, with the way the man was swaying on his feet. He himself wasn’t in terrific shape, coloured spots appearing before his vision every time he moved too quickly.

And who was to blame for that, Haruka thought wryly. This whole mission had gone awry because of this chaser. Haruka wasn’t sure why exactly he was helping the man who had caused all this trouble in the first place. He was becoming an even bigger burden with every second.

Haruka didn't have time to dwell on his actions, because when he heard another heavy footstep, only a few feet behind them by the sound of it, Haruka quickly made his decision and pushed the elevator button, roughly shoving the chaser into it once the doors opened and joining him, quickly smashing the button to close the doors. They sealed shut just as Haruka spotted the militia step into the room, his eerie looking government-issued mask the last sight he saw before the elevator jolted into motion. His gut gave the usual churn in the first few seconds as they slowly went downwards, the numbers over the doors blinking every once in a while.

Haruka let out a soft breath in relief, his heart beat slowing a bit with the small breather he'd given himself and the chaser. They had around two minutes before the elevator reached the first floor. Beside him, the chaser hissed in pain, leaning heavily against the wall. Haruka gave one look at him and moved forward. He grabbed one of the man’s arms and ripped his sleeve off in a few rough motions, ignoring the faint protest from said man. Crouching on one knee, he further ripped the sleeve open with his hands, creating one long strip of cloth.

“Take off your hand,” he said, and the chaser complied, understanding dawning on his features. Haruka then hiked the man’s shirt up slightly, to which he grunted in pain when the sticky fabric of his top was peeled off his wound. Silently beckoning the man to hold his shirt up, Haruka then tightly wrapped the cloth around the man’s stomach, over the injury, and deftly tied a knot, getting back up once he was done.

It wasn’t his best handiwork; Makoto was the one who handled injuries, but it would have to do for the time being, Haruka thought, eyes flitting back to the numbers above the elevator doors while the man brought his shirt back down. They probably had less than a minute left, Haruka mused, quickly devising a plan in what little time he was allotted.

When the elevator finally dinged, doors ready to open, Haruka poised himself, leaning back on his heels, steeling his eyes in front of him, body coiled with pent-up energy. He was surprised he still had enough of it to keep going, but he supposed that’s what adrenaline did to you. The chaser didn't move, resting his cheek against the cool of the wall, his face breaking into a cold sweat. Haruka hoped he wouldn't have to carry the man back to base, because while he did have some reserves of energy left, and while he was strong, he was tired and hurt, and he wasn't sure he could carry the body of a full-grown man across the streets of Tokyo at this point.

As soon as the door opened, Haru leapt forward, reaching out towards the startled soldier’s neck, and wrapping his arms around with a grunt, swung in one deft motion, ignoring the sharp pain his arm gave and bringing the man down, who fell with a harsh sound. The soldier was wearing heavy gear, so it probably hadn’t hurt, but it had surprised, and that was enough for Haruka, who kicked the dropped weapon aside and dealt one last blow to the militia’s head, buying himself enough time to run back to the chaser and pulling him out of the elevator and the building, into the white streets of Tokyo, before backup would arrive.

As he flew past cars and alarmed citizens, chaser in tow, zigzagging in between alleyways and streets, their figures reflected in the white pristine windows of Tokyo’s skyscrapers and buildings, with his lungs ready to burst and legs about to give out any time now, Haru simply looked up at the cloudless sky, bright and blue as ever.


	5. Chapter 5

Makoto looked up, startled, when a struggling Haruka slammed the door open, an unknown figure propped against his shoulder, nearly unconscious.

“H-Haru-chan?! Who’s this!?”

“Just help me get him to the couch, Makoto,” Haruka said tiredly, chest heaving with each intake of breath, eyes blinking with the effort to remain open.

His best friend, flustered, walked over to the two slumped men and took the unconscious figure in his arms, carrying him to the couch with ease, careful not to jostle him when he noticed the dark red patch staining his shirt. Haruka sighed in gratitude and followed Makoto, sitting down cross-legged in front of the sleeping man and leaning his head against the side of the couch. Just as he closed his eyes, Makoto spoke up.

“Haru! You’re hurt!”

Keeping his eyes closed, Haruka frowned when he felt a familiar pair of hands touch his head, inspecting his wound.

“Leave it. It’s nothing.”

"It isn't,” Makoto insisted as he checked Haruka over, wincing in sympathy as he looked more closely. “What happened?"

When he didn't answer after a moment, Haruka heard Makoto sigh, and felt his hands retract when his best friend left to retrieve their first-aid kit in the bathroom. Truthfully, it wasn't nothing – he could feel his heartbeat pulse heavily through each throb his head gave out, could barely keep his eyes open. Sleep sounded incredible at the moment but when he heard footsteps come back into the room and stop right in front of him, Haruka cracked an eye open and looked up at his friend, who had his arms full with basic medical supplies.

Makoto kneeled in front of Haruka and placed the supplies on the ground before focusing back on his friend. Grabbing some disinfectant and a cotton ball, Makoto doused it in the solution and lifted Haruka's bangs, dabbing it onto his cuts and scrapes. Haruka hissed at the sting, and Makoto smiled.

"Sorry, Haru-chan."

"Help him first," Haruka huffed out, lifting his arm up to point towards the chaser and immediately regretting it, recoiling at the sharp pain coursing through his limb with a pained groan. Makoto frowned softly as Haruka scowled, holding his injured arm against his chest.

"I will, but after you. I don't know him, Haru – I'd rather tend to you first," he said, just as he gently turned Haruka's head to the side to reach the wound at the back of his skull.

"No. You need to treat him. He’s the reason we’re in this mess," Haruka shot back grumpily, giving his friend a look meant to convey _I’m fine_. Makoto leaned back once he finished disinfecting, grabbing a roll of gauze as he chose to ignore the look.

“What do you mean?” he asked, cutting a strip of the gauze.

Haruka scowled, looking off to the side.

“I lost the bag.”

He sighed when he saw Makoto look at him with a mix of disbelief and fright, the roll of gauze falling from his hands.

“Y-you lost it,” Makoto croaked out.

Haruka frowned, as if to say _that’s what I just said_. Makoto’s hands shook as he made to retrieve the gauze, shakily wrapping it around Haruka’s head and securing it.

They both knew fully well the terms that were presented to them, when they’d accepted their job. Make a mistake, and you’re out. Permanently. Their job entailed absolute secrecy, and no failures. There were no three strikes.

And news that Haruka had not delivered his courier on time would travel quickly, they both knew that. If they wanted to stay alive, they’d either have to escape, or redeem themselves by retrieving the lost delivery before their boss caught them.

And Haruka had no plans to live as a refugee for the rest of his life.

“It’s his fault. He’s a chaser. We need answers from him,” Haruka added. Makoto nodded, looking towards the injured man unsurely.

“A-alright,” he said, “We don’t have much in terms of supplies, but I’ll see what I can do.” Reaching for the first aid kit on the floor, Makoto went to kneel in front of the chaser, and Haruka sighed out one last time, leaning back and closing his eyes.

“Haru-chan! Don’t fall asleep. You’ve got a concussion,” Makoto chided from the side, and Haruka blinked his eyes open, frowning. He looked over to his friend, who was unwrapping his clumsy attempt at a bandage from around the man’s stomach and wincing in sympathy at the wound there.

“Is he going to survive?” he asked, sluggishly turning his head to get a better view of what Makoto was doing. His friend smiled shakily in answer.

“I don’t know. It’s a bullet wound, isn’t it?” Makoto said, grabbing once again the disinfectant. “He lost a lot of blood. At least it pierced through pretty clean,” he mumbled, dabbing the soaked cotton ball around the injury.

“He coughed out blood,” Haruka supplies, feeling his head growing heavier with each word. Makoto hummed as he worked, looking over worriedly towards Haruka.

“You’re slurring your words, Haru. Please rest, alright? Just don’t fall asleep. We’ll talk later,” and Haruka grunted in answer, trying to make himself comfortable on the cold floor and focusing on Makoto working, repeatedly blinking his eyes in an effort to keep them open.

Just then, he spotted a small blue glow from the inside of the man’s pant pocket, blinking on and off every few seconds.

“What’s that?” he pointed to it with one hand, and Makoto looked over, one eyebrow raised in inquiry as he noticed the blinking light as well. Reaching towards it, Makoto fumbled as he blindly fished for the light in the pocket, pulling out the same device Haruka had seen the chaser yell into previously.

Makoto placed it on the couch next to the man’s thigh, and Haruka peered over.

It was small and grey, shaped like a flat square. There was a black screen covering it, and no buttons whatsoever. Haruka tried tapping the screen, but nothing happened. The blinking light was coming from the top right corner of the screen, however, and when Haruka brushed a finger over it, a hologram fizzled up from it, showing the current date and time, as well as a small message beneath it.

Haruka squinted to read, and let out a breath.

_Emergency state set in motion. Current location saved. Emergency contact notified: Yamazaki Sousuke. Position indicates arrival in 1:12._

“Fuck.”

Makoto looked up from his work, slight alarm showing on his face at Haruka’s tone of voice.

“What is it?”

“The chaser, he–he did something,” Haruka waved towards the hologram, “Someone knows where he is; they’re on their way.”

Makoto fumbled with the last of the bandages he was wrapping around the man’s wound, and got up, flailing all the while.

“Wh-what!”

Haruka got up as well, gritting his teeth in pain with the dull throb his limbs gave, and faced his friend, who was nervously ruffling his hair.

“Should we break it?” Makoto asked, eyes straying to the still blinking device, and Haruka shook his head, regretting doing so immediately. He swayed, and Makoto steadied him, placing his hands on his shoulders and looking at him with a small worried frown. “You shouldn’t have gotten up.”

Haruka sent him a look as if to say _never mind that, we’ve got other things to worry about_.

“I think it’s important – the machine,” he replied, indicating that breaking it probably wouldn’t be the best outcome. “I’ll go to the front door.” When Makoto opened his mouth to protest, Haruka shot him a glare. “I can handle it.”

It was too late for them to leave their flat, Haruka thought as he looked over at the blinking _0:27_ coming from the hologram. Besides, they needed the chaser if they wanted to retrieve the bag later on, and they couldn’t escape with him in tow; he’d slow them down.

The only solution was to fight, then. Makoto was not a fighter, never was, despite his big frame; that was why he dealt with the behind-the-scenes transactions that came with their job, while Haruka would take care of the up-front, more violent prone aspects of it. Haruka knew he was definitely not in top-notch shape at the moment, but for his best friend, he’d muster up the energy. Makoto was all he had left.

Haruka trudged up to the front door, locking it up for good measure and waiting to the side, back to the wall. A few feet away, next to the still unconscious chaser, Makoto was waiting, trepidation showing on his face and in the way he shuffled side to side, uneasy.

The hologram blinked out _0:06_. Hurried footsteps could be heard heading towards the front door.

Haru held his breath.

There was a loud slam on the door, followed by someone cocking a gun. Haruka quickly made hand gestures to Makoto, telling him to move to the side as he was facing the door.

“Where’s Rin,” a voice from outside demanded darkly. Ah. So that was his name, Haruka thought idly.

“Who are you?”

“None of your business. Open the door,” the voice answered with another harsh slam against the door. Haruka wondered why the man – Yamazaki Sousuke, he guessed – hadn’t already kicked down the door, if he seemed so intent on reaching the chaser – Rin. From the slight indents forming on the door from the impact, he was strong. Stronger than Haruka. This wasn’t boding well for them.

“Get rid of the gun.”

He was answered with a flurry of bullets piercing the door, the light from outside shining through the holes and into the room. Makoto yelped.

Well.

“I suggest you open the door,” the man continued calmly, “and cooperate. You don’t want to get in the way.”

Makoto glanced over to Haruka with frantic eyes, silently asking him what they should do. Haruka simply lifted a finger to his lips in a request to keep quiet, and slowly leaned towards the door, unlocking it with a small _click_ and ignoring Makoto’s widening eyes.

Haruka waved his hand towards Makoto, telling him to back up as he crouched low, poising himself. He figured he could pull the same stunt back in the elevator with this guy. Besides, Haruka was better at expressing himself with actions, rather than words. If he couldn’t reach to the man by communicating, he’d just have to land a few punches to make himself heard. By the sound of Yamazaki reloading his gun, it seemed like he preferred action over words too.

Later, Haruka would regret not letting Makoto’s gentler and more likeable nature handle the situation.

Everything was still, for the next few seconds.

Then it was a flurry of movements, the door kicking open and the man, tall – _taller than Makoto_ – and muscular flew in, gun cocked right between Haruka’s eyes, and Haruka spun a leg around, knocking the man off balance before leaping forward to grab the gun. Yamazaki grunted as he felt Haruka’s weight on top of him, throwing the gun away from Haruka’s reach and grabbing his wrists, rolling around on the floor. Haruka could distantly hear Makoto’s panicked yells in the background.

Haruka felt a violent headache come in as he was moved around quickly, vision blurring slightly before finding himself beneath the man’s frame. Wrestling to get his wrists freed, Haruka kicked blindly at Yamazaki’s sides, letting out a breath when he successfully landed a hit which caused the man to release one of his wrists with a pained grunt. He swung his fist towards the man’s face, ignoring the throb in his arm and hitting his jaw, only to let out a terrible and pained yell when Yamazaki retaliated with a harsh kick between his legs.

His vision darkened for a few seconds, until Haruka blinked his eyes open to find himself jostled up from the floor and slammed against the wall, rough hands wrapping around his neck. Yamazaki was holding him upwards, hot breath harsh against his face and deep teal eyes glaring murderously at him, and Haruka’s feet couldn’t touch the ground, flailing and twitching as breathing in air was getting harder and harder. He instinctively brought his hands over the man’s, scratching and clawing to try and pry them off, to no avail.

Just as Haruka’s hands fell limply to their sides, spots appearing in his vision, trying to breathe in a few last gulps of air, Makoto yelled again, and Yamazaki’s hold slackened. Haruka fell harshly to the ground, bringing shaking hands to his throat as he gasped loudly and coughed, sucking in loud gulps of air despite the pain each intake of breath caused to his throat. He lifted his head, and saw Makoto, looking terrified and pointing Yamazaki’s previously abandoned gun towards the chaser.

Haruka wanted to get up and help Makoto, but...

He was so tired.

Haruka heard the man shout back to Makoto, and the last thing he saw before swaying to the ground and blacking out was Makoto lifting the gun from its position and lifting his hands up, lips moving as he pacified with Yamazaki.


	6. Chapter 6

During a time Haruka doesn’t care to remember, when he’d been two years younger and had lost everything, had been left alone and lost, he met someone.

Haruka remembers the day clearly, even if there are some memories of it he’d rather forget. He remembers the fog in Tokyo, even though moments ago it had been a clear and bright blue day, just as all days in the city were. He remembers the smoke, the cries of terror and anguish, the coughs, the sound of guns firing, the footsteps of scrambling citizens trying to get away. He remembers the haze of buildings blurring in his vision as he whizzed past panicked crowds and armed militias, remembers the empty glaze in his parents’ eyes, their…

But most of all, he remembers the tall figure he’d accidently ran into as he’d fled the scene.

Green eyes and a kind smile had met his mumbled apologies, only to turn into a concerned expression when they’d noticed the state Haruka was in. Haruka himself wasn’t really concerned about how he’d looked, but he probably should have, considering where’d he’d been in the first place. The soot on his clothes and face, and the small scratches and bruises marring his arms and cheeks probably gave it away.

“Are you alright?” the boy had asked, hovering worriedly over Haruka, and it had irritated him a bit, how this complete stranger was concerning themselves over him.

“I’m fine,” he’d replied, rubbing at his eyes roughly with one hand, wanting to drop the subject. In normal situations, the stranger would shrug and mind his own business, and go on his merry way. This boy didn’t.

“You don’t look it,” the stranger had shot back firmly, stepping closer. “You’re bleeding,” he’d added, pointing towards his forehead, and Haruka gingerly lifted his hand up, finding it coming back sticky with blood.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, hating the way his voice catched at the end, glaring up at the boy. He looked about his age, but he was tall. “Drop it.” He just needed a bath. Just a bath. He was _fine_.

“You were at the protest,” the boy said slowly, eyes widening as it dawned on him, looking over Haruka, and Haruka didn’t like the gleam slowly appearing in the boy’s eyes. “It didn’t end well, did it?” he asked, and Haruka’s breath hitched.

He turned around and started making his way to a narrower and quieter street, wanting to leave as soon as possible, because if the boy starting piecing things together, he’d figure out Haruka and his parents (only now it was just Haruka, but he refused to think about that now) were against all of this, weren’t agreeing with the government’s ideals, and Haruka didn’t know this guy, didn’t know if he was working for the government, couldn’t trust him. He’d barely made it out of the streets where the protest had gone on, wasn’t sure if the militia had seen him properly to identify him. He needed to flee, as soon as possible, just like his parents had told him should something happen, only now it was just him, and Haruka wasn’t sure how well he’d fare on his own.

For the first time ever, he was actually free to do what he wanted, but Haruka wasn’t sure he knew what he wanted anymore.

The boy stopped him mid-stride, grabbing on to his wrist, and Haruka swiftly turned back around, scowl on his face. He didn’t want to cause a scene and attract attention, but this guy was making it difficult to do so.

“Let go of me,” he said stiffly, but the boy’s face, settled in a small frown, stopped whatever he was going to say next.

“You’re not fine,” he stated, and Haruka bristled at that.

“Don’t tell me what I am and what I’m not. I said, let _go_ of me,” Haruka reiterated, pulling on his bound wrist for good measure, but the boy barely budged an inch. He was strong.

“No, listen!” and Haruka watched as those eyes flitted to the sides and back, as if the boy was checking their surroundings. The odd gleam in his eyes never left. “I’m – I’m not. For,” and the boy was hesitating, as if he was afraid of what he was about to say, “the. Them. I can help you,” and Haruka lifted an eyebrow in confusion.

“Them?”

The boy looked around again, and pulled Haruka to the side of a street, into a narrow alleyway. He let go of Haruka then, letting him know he could leave if he wanted, and for a second Haruka almost did, because this was _dangerous_ , he didn’t know this guy, this could be a trap for all he knew. But what did he have left to lose?

So he’d stayed, in the small empty alleyway, with this tall and strong-looking boy baring a nervous expression on his face, and Haruka waited, although he was aching to leave, to run away, because there was still the possible threat of the police looking for him. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was afraid.

And that fear didn’t wane when the boy pulled up his sleeve, showing him a familiar looking tattoo on his bicep, the ink black and the lines sharp on his skin, a symbol Haruka knew his parents had ingrained on their own bodies and that he had yet to get on himself. The fear didn’t wane, no, his heart leaping in his chest with foreboding, but there was now relief and exhilaration mixed in with it, jumbling Haruka’s head with confusing thoughts and questions.

_Who was this boy? Was he against Tokyo, like him? Why wasn’t he at the protest, then? Was he alone too?_

When Haruka finally lifted his head up to meet the boy's eyes, he saw hope and a glimmer of something else at the expression on Haruka’s face.

“Tachibana Makoto,” the boy said.

“Nanase Haruka,” he’d replied warily, still unsure about the situation, but slightly eased from the mark on the boy’s skin. At least he knew he was on his side.

“Haruka,” the boy had repeated with a slight upturn of his lips, and Haruka could only keep quiet and listen at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“How much of your personal freedom are you willing to give up for a comfortable life?”

 

* * *

 

Haruka first felt, more than heard, the voices flitting about and around him.

They were vibrating, shattering the darkness he felt in his mind and beneath his eyelids. Then they were wisps of conversations, words floating in and out of his realm of consciousness, one voice familiar and two others not. They lilted and warbled, sometimes loud and sometimes less than a whisper, and they hurt.

Then they became intelligible, phrases and angry whispers which Haruka could understand as he slowly regained sense of his bearings, but which worsened his headache with each throb it gave. The darkness behind his closed eyes slowly gave way to light shadows, as if someone had turned on a small lamplight near him. The pain in his limbs slowly seeped back in as Haruka became aware enough to feel it. He felt his pulse beat heavily in his skull, felt the dull ache in his arm, the agony it took to breathe with each gulp of air down his throat. His entire body was aching, his stomach was twisting in nausea, and his head swam with the repeated onslaught of dizziness.

Haruka felt a weak groan spill from his lips, jerking at the pain of doing so caused his throat. The voices hushed, and the shadows darkened behind his eyelids, as if someone was hovering over him. He felt someone push his bangs back.

“Haru-chan?” someone said worriedly, and Haruka blinked, opened his eyes with sluggish movements, and immediately regretted it, the room spinning. He shut them right away, coughing and wincing.

“Makoto,” he tried to say, but his voice was a rasp, and talking was painful, so Haruka simply shut his mouth and breathed deeply, exhausted and hurt. Makoto took his hand in his, and Haruka heard him settle down on the floor. He guessed he was lying on their couch. But wait, if _he_ was occupying their couch, then…

“Haru-chan, I’m glad you’re awake,” and the relief was evident in Makoto's voice, but Haruka payed no attention to it as he suddenly recalled everything that had happened today, and he lurched up, eyes wide, scrambling to get up.

“We–” he tried to say, flinching at the throb in his neck, but continuing on, “We need to – Makoto, we need,” he croaked incoherently, thoughts a mess and voice hoarse, swaying as he tried to get up, but Makoto placed both hands on his shoulders to stop him, gentle but firm.

“Haru! Don’t get up, you’ll get sick,” he scolded, and Haruka tried to glare, but his vision was still blurry around the edges, and Makoto was right, because his stomach had lurched dangerously at the sudden movements, but they needed to leave now, needed to know where the chaser was if he wasn't lying on the couch, passed out, needed to know if Yamazaki was still a threat or not. Makoto eased Haruka back onto the couch, grabbing a wet cloth and placing it on his forehead. Somewhere to his left, a dark voice spoke up.

“I’m surprised you’ve only woken up now; Rin’s been complaining pretty loudly for this past hour,” and right next to it another spluttered indignantly, albeit weakly.

“Shut the fuck up, Sou. You try getting shot without saying something about it.”

Haruka opened his eyes once again as he recognized the voices, one belonging to the chaser and the other to his friend. He looked on at Makoto, who was still fretting over him. He answered him with a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry Haru-chan; they’re on our side.”

Haruka was loath to believe that, and he told Makoto so with a flat stare. Makoto raised his hands in a placating manner.

“Really, Haru! I managed to talk to Yamazaki here; he and Matsuoka…”

Yamazaki walked forward, now in Haruka’s range of vision, and waved a hand dismissively at Makoto’s words. Haruka scowled.

“Talk later. We’ve waited long enough; now that your little runner here is finally awake, we need to get out of here. Tokyo probably knows your location, but not ours,” he said with a nod towards the chaser, who was leaning against the wall, hand pressed against his side. “We can sort everything out at our base.”

Makoto bit his lip and nodded, and made to get up, but Haruka stopped him with one arm, getting up in a sitting position, the cloth falling from his forehead and onto his lap. He took a small breath, steadying his nausea and blinking away the drowsiness that risked to overcome him again before glaring up at the man before them. He felt like shit, but he wasn’t about to listen to the man who’d attacked him a mere hour ago without a fight.

“No.”

The man lifted one eyebrow in mock inquiry, crossing his arms.

“No?” he repeated darkly.

“You almost killed me.” Haruka bit out, bringing a hand up to his neck in the hopes massaging it would make talking hurt less. It didn’t; touching his neck stung where he’d been strangled, and Haruka quickly brought his hand back down, glaring all the more at the man who’d caused this injury in the first place.

“Sorry,” Yamazaki replied, not sounding like it in the least. “It’s my job to get rid of people who are in Rin’s way, if the need arises; and you were in the way. It’s not like you didn’t land a punch on me either,” he finished, shrugging as if in apology. Haruka didn’t buy it. The man sighed and rolled his eyes.

“We can argue later; there are gonna be militia banging at your door any time now, so we’ve gotta haul our asses out of here. You don’t have a choice in coming with us, unless you want to end up dead for sure, this time.”

Haruka glowered. Makoto placed a hand on his shoulder, small smile on his face despite the worry in his eyes. So he didn’t completely trust them either, Haruka thought.

“He’s right; we don’t have much of a choice. The militia probably tried tracking you after you left with Matsuoka, they’ll find this place eventually. And if not them, then our boss, since we weren’t able to deliver the courier successfully. And Yamazaki said they have more advanced medical supplies at their base; I’ll be able to treat you and Matsuoka properly.”

“Listen,” Yamazaki groused out, getting impatient, “we need you guys as much as you need us. We’re both after the same thing, so it’ll be best if we work together, and our place is hidden and well-stocked. So _let’s go_.”

There was a lot of information to take in so little time, and Haruka’s head was still swimming, his wounds still throbbing. He gathered that Makoto had talked with Yamazaki and Matsuoka while he was unconscious, and they’d cleared things up a bit, but he himself was still out of the loop about their current situation and what they planned on doing. He didn’t trust the chaser, nor did he trust Yamazaki. Especially him. But he trusted Makoto. And if Makoto was willing to follow these two…

Haruka swung his legs sideways, then stood up, holding onto Makoto’s arm for support as he let another wave of nausea pass, careful to keep his movements to a minimum. He looked towards Matsuoka, easy grin on his face despite the bloody bandage around his waist, then up at Yamazaki, holding his deep-set gaze with his own smolder, and took one deep breath.

“Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speedy update this time! March break starts in a week for me, so I should be able to write more frequently in upcoming days.


	7. Chapter 7

It didn’t take long for Haruka and Makoto to pack their things in preparation to leave. Once they were done, clothes and any intel they had in their possessions securely stuffed in their bags, Haruka took the few painkillers Makoto handed to him and turned around, facing their flat.

Their apartment wasn’t much to look at – what little space it offered was occupied only by necessities such as their couch, or Makoto’s study, and the kitchen and bathroom, along with futons stored in their closet. Makoto and Haruka had anticipated it, however, when they had first gotten the keys to their new lodgings from their patron: a small apartment meant an inconspicuous one, which was a must for their job. They didn’t want to get caught by the authorities, after all.

Despite the bleary look their apartment gave off, thought, Haruka couldn’t help but think, as he hoisted his small knapsack on his shoulder, that he’d miss this place. He’d called it his home for the past two years.

Haruka was jolted out of his thoughts when he felt someone gently nudge his shoulders, and he turned around to face them. Makoto smiled, giving a nod of his head towards their front door, held open by an exasperated-looking Yamazaki.

“Ready to go, Haru-chan?” and Haruka huffed at the nickname, but decided to ignore it for the moment. Yamazaki was starting to tap his foot impatiently, while Matsuoka was already limping down the steps leading to the white streets of Tokyo.

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, voice still scratchy. Makoto smiled in answer.

“Fucking finally,” muttered Yamazaki, rolling his eyes when Haruka sharpened his gaze onto him. “Let’s go. Try not to make too much noise.”

And with that, he turned around, following Matsuoka down the stairs, footsteps soft on the metal steps despite his heavy frame.

Haruka eyed Yamazaki’s back warily, still unhappy with the prospect of blindly following him and the chaser. He knew he didn’t really have a choice, though, with everything that had happened. His bag had been intercepted by the chaser, only to then be taken away from both of them by the militia. It seemed as if Matsuoka and Yamazaki had an inkling of knowledge of why that had happened, which was ultimately why Haruka needed to follow them. Haruka didn’t necessarily know what was in the courier bag; his job was only to deliver the packages he was given. However, with the recent events that had transpired, he realised that this message in particular contained something important. Important enough that the government had interfered with heavier gear than usual.

Haruka let out a pained sigh. All this thinking wasn’t helping his headache any less; at least the painkillers were starting to take effect. He could no longer feel the dull throb in his limbs and his neck – but he was also feeling slightly drowsy and lightheaded.

Next to him, Makoto held out an arm knowingly, and Haruka grudgingly took it, but was silently grateful for it all the same.

“Do you want me to grab your bag for you?” Makoto asked as they left their apartment, Haruka hissing at the sudden light hitting him and lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the sunny as ever sky of Tokyo.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, moving forward to the stairs, ignoring the look Makoto was giving him at the obvious lie. “Come on,” he added, lightly tugging at Makoto’s arm.

When they finally reached the bottom of the stairs, all twelve flights of them, they were greeted by an irritated Yamazaki, sitting at the wheel of a silver sports car, looking brand new, from the sleek tires to the tinted windows. Haruka looked on dubiously at it, while Makoto scratched the back of his head in wonder, laughing nervously.

“W-wow…”

“Aren’t all cars identified individually and kept track of by Tokyo?” Haruka asked, fixing his gaze on Yamazaki, who was staring back smugly.

“Not this one,” is what he answered, before adding, “now get in.”

Makoto opened the back door, and Haruka threw his bag in before settling himself in the back seat and scooting over for Makoto to sit beside him, letting his head drop onto his friend’s shoulder in fatigue. In front of them, Yamazaki shifted gears, and the chaser, sitting in the passenger’s seat, turned around to face Makoto and Haruka.

“Better buckle up,” he slurred, feral grin plastered on his face, “you’re in for one hell of a ride.”

Just as Haruka heard the telltale ‘ _click_ ’ of his belt buckle locking in place and Makoto let out a small “What!?”, Yamazaki swiftly slammed his foot on the pedal, engine revving and car suddenly lurching in motion and going at an alarming speed towards the busier streets of Tokyo.

Haruka pitched forward, slamming into the back of the front seat with a sharp grunt, previous drowsiness instantly disappearing as Yamazaki spun the wheel, car veering off into a sharp left turn. Settling himself back up with a hand on his head and dismissing Makoto’s worries, he glared towards the teal eyes he could spot in the rear-view mirror.

“What the fuck?!” he croaked out, bracing his other hand on the car door’s handle as Yamazaki quickly drove in between honking cars, Matsuoka whooping next to him and eyes glinting in excitement despite the slight winces he let out with every lurch of the car. Yamazaki had been on and on about being subtle and not raising attention, but now it seemed as if he wanted every cop in the vicinity to know of their whereabouts with his reckless driving.

“We are, unfortunately, already being followed,” Yamazaki answered easily, making another sharp turn which caused Makoto to knock his head against his window with a yelp. “Spotted an undercover car a few feet behind mine when Rin and I got in the car.”

Haruka gave a sharp turn of his head to the back window, spotting one sleek black car behind them, going equally fast and not far from them, confirming Yamazaki’s claim. Haruka swore under his breath.

“Go faster,” he stated, and next to him, Makoto moaned in agony while the chaser cheered on. Yamazaki let out a small smirk.

“My pleasure,” and he shifted gears once again, swerving in between the white streets of the city, the buildings and city lights a multicoloured blur as they whizzed past them.

Next to Haruka, Makoto leaned his head backwards, a slight sheen of sweat forming on his forehead and along the column of his neck.

“I’m gonna be sick,” he moaned, letting out a soft puff of breath and gulping loudly.

“Not in my car you don’t,” Yamazaki growled out, turning right. Haruka pressed a hand on Makoto’s forehead, hoping it would help him cool down. He looked a bit green.

“Just close your eyes,” he sighed out to his best friend, knowing he wasn’t one for up-front action. He wasn’t feeling all that great himself from all the spinning and swerving, but the painkillers he’d taken just a while ago helped. He could ignore what little pain he could still feel for now.

Makoto listened, breathing out and slipping his eyes closed, and Haruka removed his hand, gripping the handle to his side once again, satisfied his friend would be alright for now. Yamazaki made another sharp turn, and as Haruka lurched at the sudden movement, he noticed the streets were once again getting less busy. He hadn’t ever been in this part of Tokyo before, he thought idly as he looked out the windows of the car. It seemed as if they were on the outskirts of the city.

Up front, the chaser smashed his head against the front window as the car sped up violently, cursing up a storm.

“Jesus _Christ_ , that hurt! Hey, jackass, I’m injured, mind your driving,” he yelled out towards Yamazaki, angrily rubbing his forehead with both hands, only to blanch when he took a look at the rear-view mirror to his side. “Fuck, never mind, go faster.”

Haruka looked over to him, raising one eyebrow in inquiry, only to pale as well when he spotted a second car following them from the rear-view mirror. In front, Yamazaki cursed loudly and spun the wheel, the tires screeching loudly against the pavement as the car did a one-eighty and faced the undercover vehicles. Makoto slammed into Haruka, groaning out apologies while Haruka coughed out from the impact.

“Hold on tight,” Yamazaki growled out, shifting gears and once again slamming his foot against the pedal. “We’re taking a detour.”

Their car revved into motion, speeding up more and more as they got closer to the militia cars. Haruka’s eyes widened in alarm, knuckles white from gripping the car handle too tightly.

“We’re going to crash into them!” he yelled out, but Matsuoka turned around to face him, sharp grin on his face.

“Sou knows what he’s doing, runner boy. Watch this.”

And Haruka did watch, the hood of the sports car getting closer and closer to hitting the two other cars. He recoiled when they were two seconds away from crashing into the cars, shutting his eyes as he braced himself for impact.

There was a loud noise as their car collided with the others, metal against metal, and the car swerved lightly, jostling every passenger from their seats, but the car continued on, and Haruka opened his eyes.

Yamazaki had managed to squeeze in between the two black cars, who’d both made a large gap between each other as they tried moving away from the speeding sports car in front of them.

Haruka let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding in, and next to him, Makoto held both hands in front of his mouth, going a sickly shade of green, while the chaser pumped a fist in the air and cheered, before flinching and pressing a hand against his own wound. Haruka noticed Yamazaki grin and roll his eyes from the front rear-view mirror, foot easing on the pedal as they evaded trouble for now.

They continued making their way through the streets of Tokyo, leisurely turning left and right on roads as the blue daylight sky faded into to the soft purple-pink haze of dusk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I'm not as happy with this chapter as I'd like to be, but oh well. I wasn't anticipating writing a car chase either, haha.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I LAST UPDATED
> 
> I haven't abandoned this, I just haven't been happy with my writing lately. This chapter is a bit longer than the others as an apology (≧人≦●）
> 
> Also, I know very little about medication and how fast gunshot and choking wounds heal, but since this story is set in the future, I took a few liberties concerning those.

They eventually reached Yamazaki’s and Matsuoka’s base, a small but pristine building located near the outskirts of Tokyo. Haruka was glad, because he was starting to feel the effects of the painkillers wean off of him, and his headache was returning, along with the slight ache his other injuries came with. Next to him, Makoto wasn’t looking much better, the adrenaline and nausea from the car ride having taken a toll on him. Much to Yamazaki’s relief, however, he hadn’t gotten sick.

Yamazaki parked, and Haruka didn’t bother to pay attention to his surroundings this time, letting his eyes drift shut every once in a while as he and the others got out of the sports car and made their way inside. He just hoped the chaser and his friend were sincere when they said their place was much more inconspicuous than his and Makoto’s.

They were. Their base was sleek, with an array of equipment and supplies Haruka could only guess had been obtained illegally, how, he wasn’t sure, considering the tight security Tokyo was under. He wouldn’t question it however, somewhat grateful for this turn of events.

Yamazaki led everyone to what Haruka assumed was their living room, Makoto fretting over Haruka being comfortable enough, and Matsuoka laying on one of the white couches, either oblivious or uncaring of the red stain slowly forming on the fabric from his wound. Yamazaki left, getting medical supplies and some water for everyone before coming back, placing the kit on their coffee table and handing over a glass to Makoto, who took it gratefully. Next to him, Haruka took his own glass of water from the coffee table, drinking in heavy gulps in the hopes to soothe his throat and headache.

“Thank you, Yamazaki-san,” Makoto said.

Yamazaki grunted in answer, opening the much more advanced medical kit and grabbing a small vial of clear liquid and a bottle of pills for the chaser.

“Listen, sorry about the driving before, but if you’re feeling better now, tend to your runner friend over there and we’ll talk formalities later. I assume you know what most of the things in there do,” he said, nodding his head toward the supplies splayed out on the table.

“Oh, yes. Right.”

Haruka, who had leaned against Makoto’s shoulder and closed his eyes as he felt his nausea come back, slowly lifted himself into a sitting position when Makoto leaned forward to grab some more gauze and other things, glaring at the blunt tone Yamazaki had given his friend. The man saw, and rolled his eyes, coaxing the protesting chaser into lifting his head so he could give him whatever was in the vial to drink.

“Sou, I can drink this by myself,” Matsuoka growled, grabbing the vial for himself and swallowing in one huge gulp before gagging and coughing. “Fuck, that’s disgusting!”

From the other couch, Haruka smiled at the scene, amused, while Makoto rewrapped his head in gauze. Yamazaki came over and stopped him, instead handing him another small vial, the colour this time a faint purple.

“If you want his wounds to heal fast, use this. We’re gonna need him on his feet soon,” he told him before going back to tend to Matsuoka, and Haruka bristled at the fact that the man was talking as if he wasn’t there. Makoto simply thanked him and started unwrapping his previous work, green eyes boring into angry blue ones.

“Be nice,” he scolded quietly, and Haruka huffed, averting his gaze.

“Give him this to drink too,” Yamazaki called out, throwing a vial of medicine similar to the one the chaser had drunk, and Makoto fumbled, catching it at the last second. He uncorked it, and handed it to Haruka, who brought it up and sniffed before recoiling, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“What is it,” he asked with a downturn of his lips. His voice still held a hint of croakiness to it, and his throat still hurt, but it was manageable.

“It’ll help with recovery,” Yamazaki supplied as he applied an odd-looking ointment to the gun wound on the chaser’s side. “Heals wounds faster. You’ll get groggy thirty minutes after ingestion.”

Haruka paused.

“I’m not drinking this.”

“Like hell you aren’t,” Yamazaki answered, shifting to glare towards Haruka. “We agreed to cooperate; I’m _helping_ you.”

“I don’t trust you,” Haruka fired back, scowling.

Yamazaki got up, making his way to Haruka, towering over him before leaning forward until he was face to face with Haruka, teal eyes raging up a storm.

“Listen here, you fuck,” he started, ignoring Makoto’s indignant protest, “I don’t trust you either. That much is clear. But we’re both looking for the same thing–”

“Which is _ours_ ,” Haruka cut him off, glaring back.

“–which _requires both our fucking cooperation to get back_. You’re fast, I’m not, but I know things you don’t regarding that package, and you’re not finding out what it is I know unless you get better and agree for us to _fucking work together_. Got it? So shut your pretty little mouth and drink the fucking medicine.”

Haruka felt pent up rage build up inside him at this man, felt frustration rising at this anger he wasn’t used to experience, he who was usually so mellow and apathetic towards others. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, not sure what he _could_ do, considering his current state. Yamazaki didn’t let him react, however, backing up and veering off towards a corridor.

“I’m done fixing up Rin. I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” he muttered darkly. “You,” he added, pointing towards Makoto, “make sure he drinks it.”

Makoto nodded and turned back towards Haruka, who was still silently seething, hands curled into fists at his side. It was silent for a moment, until the chaser spoke up.

“Whooo,” he whistled, arms crossed behind his head. He looked tired but it seemed as if he was faring pretty well, Haruka noticed. “I’ve seen Sou get mad, but damn, you guys really hate each other’s guts. You know, I drank the same damn thing and I still live. The stuff Sousuke brought out is all Tokyo regulated, so it’s bound to be safe.”

“Yamazaki-san’s right, you know,” Makoto quietly told Haruka as he poured some of the purple lotion onto Haruka’s neck. Haruka hissed at the contact, but soon after relaxed as the lotion started to take effect on his wounds. “You can’t keep on going against each other. He – they’re both helping us make the best of this situation.”

“ _They’re_ also the reason we’re in this mess,” Haruka shot back. The chaser sat up quickly, wincing at the motion but vexed all the same.

“Hey, we were just doing our job like you guys were doing yours, alright? They just happened to interfere with each other.” He lied back down, propping his head on his arm as a makeshift pillow. “If you’re so pissed off about it, why’d you save me? You didn’t have to, but you dragged me with you and away from the militia anyway.”

Haruka shrugged in answer. What he did as a job wasn’t strictly legal, but that didn’t mean he was a cruel person. He wasn’t about to let someone die on his watch.

Makoto nudged Haruka gently, and handed him once more the vial containing the offending medicine.

“You still need to drink this, Haru-chan,” he said with a smile, and Haru frowned. He wordlessly took the offered medication, and tilted his head back, drinking it in one shot. He immediately regretted it, the taste foul, and he passed the now empty container to Makoto as he wiped at his mouth, letting out a small grimace as he did so.

“Good, right?” Matsuoka taunted from his spot, grinning.

“Delicious,” Haruka muttered.

Makoto finished applying ointment on Haruka’s arm before placing back all the medical supplies into the kit, and stood up.

“All done,” he stated, picking up the first aid kit. “It’s not broken, luckily, but don’t move your arm too much, Haru-chan. I’ll go give this back to Yamazaki-san, and we’ll come back and discuss what to do from here on out, I guess.”

Haruka nodded, and Makoto left. Haruka sighed, and settled himself on the couch, lying sideways so he ended up facing the chaser, who gave him a sharp-toothed smirk.

“So, Haru-chan, huh?”

“Shut up,” Haruka mumbled, closing his eyes. The chaser mercifully did, and Haruka let out a soft sigh, shuffling around to make himself comfortable. It was quiet in the living room, save for the breaths the chaser let out intermittently, soothing and gentle, allowing Haruka to drown in his own thoughts for a while as they rest.

This, to say the least, wasn’t one of the best situations he’d been in. He’d failed to deliver the intel to his intended target, and in turn had now put his and Makoto’s life in danger, and had lost their home. They were then stuck at the debt of the men who were at the _root_ of this whole ordeal, of the men who’d caused him to get injured. They’d helped him heal, and he’d helped the chaser escape with him, so they were now even. But since they all wanted the courier he’d lost, Haruka had to follow in their steps, whatever those were, work together into some sort of rebellious scheme to retrieve the package, which he’d rather do by _himself_ , and which he thought he could do perfectly well. As soon as he recovered.

Haruka huffed in irritation. Today was really shaping up to be on the top-ten of his worst days ever list.

He heard padding footsteps nearing the living room, and Haruka opened his eyes, sat back up against the side of the couch. Matsuoka did the same on his own seat, and Yamazaki and Makoto came back in, each taking a seat on either sofa.

“You drank the medication,” Yamazaki stated, not asked, and Haruka nodded stiffly. “Good. I know we’re not on good terms–”

Haruka scoffed. Yamazaki glared.

“– not with the way we met, but I was doing my job, and you were doing yours, so there’s that, but I’m genuinely trying to help here, alright? I’m not looking to get all chummy with you, but for now,” he raised his hand up, “how about a truce?”

Haruka looked down at the proffered hand, back up towards Yamazaki, who looked uncomfortable but glared all the same, and towards Makoto, who had a kind smile but an urging look in his eyes. Haruka internally rolled his eyes, and took the hand, shaking it. Yamazaki’s grip was tight.

“Whatever,” he muttered, and Makoto sighed despairingly.

“That’s as close to an apology you’ll get from him.”

“Right,” Yamazaki said, deadpan. Beside him, Matsuoka snickered. Another beat of silence.

Surprisingly, Haruka was the one to break it.

“What’s the information about the package you said you knew of but we didn’t?”

Matsuoka answered, rubbing his palms against his thighs back and forth, licking his lips. “Okay. Here’s the thing. You guys are part of one of those pacifist rebel groups, right? Your specific jobs are to gather whatever information you’ve found about Tokyo that could incriminate them or halt their efforts to control every goddamn aspect of our lives there is, and to deliver them to the more active members of your group on time? That’s what we gathered about runners and intel organisers.”

Makoto slipped out a ‘yes,’ and Haruka gave a slow nod of his head. That was the gist of it.

“And you’ve heard of us too. Chasers,” Matsuoka continued. “We –”

“Your jobs are to chase after runners and grab their courier,” Haruka interrupted, ignoring the sharp glare he received from Yamazaki.

“Yeah.” Matsuoka scratched the back of his head. “But you don’t really know what we do with it once we grab it, do you.”

“We know the runner you take it from is either killed or flees to live in exile,” Haruka answered coldly. “Along with his partner.” Next to him, Makoto laughed nervously, fidgeting.

“But do you know why?” Yamazaki fired back just as coolly, leaning forward in his seat.

“Because the runner failed its job.”

“Usually,” Makoto tried to explain, “those taken in as members of the groups who aren’t placed higher up, like runners, are deemed a liability. If we fail once, our boss can’t take the risk of us failing twice, not with the importance of the information we carry around, and he doesn’t trust us not to blab once we’re out of the group. So that leaves little option to what happens to us if we lose our courier.”

“Nice system you got there,” Yamazaki huffed out. Makoto tensed a little, and Haruka knew he hit a sore spot.

“We’re aware of the implications failure carries for us when we’re first hired,” Makoto replied primly, less-than-sweet smile on his face.

“Well,” Yamazaki drawled, “while that’s all well and nice, you’re wrong.”

“Or, well, that’s not the whole truth,” Matsuoka chimed in. “Runners get the short end of the straw if they fail a mission because here’s a third party interfering with them.”

Makoto blinked once, twice, owlish look on his face. “I’m sorry?”

Haruka was just as confused. This he’d never heard before.

“The government,” Yamazaki said, “is trying to interfere with runners and chasers. In short, we’re both getting fucked over by Tokyo. Which is why you guys get offed if you fail your missions. Can’t risk a government official identifying rebel members, can you?”

“You mean to say…”

“Tokyo came up with the clever idea to train some officials into runners of their own, and essentially, chase after you guys to stop your efforts and get rid of you.”

Haruka’s mind was whirling a mile a minute. He’d not once heard about this, not from his mentor, or their boss, not in the two years he’d worked as a runner. If that was the case, then there was no way he or any other runners could tell the difference between a chaser or a fraud. But did it matter, in the end? Failure was failure, whether your courier had been jacked by chasers or Tokyo. One was much more serious than the other, however… But the government infiltrating… did that also mean there were fake runners? Were there spies in their groups? Makoto wasn’t a spy, but what about his other colleagues. What about his mentor?

The medication was taking effect, but that didn’t stop Haruka from getting another headache.

Well, at least he knew these two were actually against the government, what with the way Matsuoka had been so keen on evading the militia back in the sky, and Yamazaki with the violent car chase. He could trust them, Haruka thought to himself. He could.

Next to him, Makoto still looked as if he was processing the information he had just been given.

“In any case,” Yamazaki sighed out, “it’s giving Tokyo the chance to kill two birds with one stone: stopping rebel work and identifying those rebels, whether they’re runners or chasers. It's been a real bitch evading them recently.”

“Do you work for anyone?” Haruka inquired.

“We work independently. Unlike you guys, we don’t answer to a leader or anything. It’s much easier that way.”

_Much easier to get killed_ , Haruka thought, but decided not to voice out loud. He was getting tired, and didn’t want another argument. From the droopy looks Matsuoka was giving him, head lolling on his propped hand, he was getting sleepy as well.

“What do you do with the packages you steal, then?”

Matsuoka lazily grinned towards his companion, who smirked back, before turning his languid gaze to Haruka.

“We find more… _proactive_ ways of using the information we find in the courier we grab.”

“Bombing, high jacking of militia equipment for our own use or for money, extortion of illegal products, you name it.”

Haruka thought back to the recent articles about the explosion near Shibuya and the disappearance of imported official materials. That explained a few things.

“We usually know what the contents of the packages we target are, so depending on what our goal is that day, we go for specific runners,” Matsuoka continued. “Sousuke’s in charge of finding out which one to chase, and I’m in charge of finding for the runner’s coordinates so I can grab their bags. You, though…” he said, pointing towards Haruka.

Haruka’s head was getting heavier and heavier, but he tried to grasp on to what the chaser was saying.

“We’re not aware of what’s inside the packages we deliver,” Makoto said. “We just know they’re usually for liberal media press usage.”

“Yes, but what runner boy here was trying to deliver today wasn’t your usual type of courier,” Yamazaki countered. “I tried to find out what he was delivering, but I didn’t find any information on it. Not in Tokyo’s database, not in yours either. Whatever’s in that bag, it’s important or dangerous.”

“Or both,” Matsuoka slurred, grinning.

“Which is why Rin was after you,” Yamazaki said, “and also probably the reason you both had militia hot on your tail the entire time you were running. It’s that important. And we need it. We figured it could be the key to wiping down Tokyo.”

There was a beat of silence, Makoto head tilted and eyebrows scrunched up in thought, and Haruka frowning.

So what Haruka was supposed to deliver today wasn’t the usual information he usually carried, but contained something which the government wanted. Something which these two wanted to keep Tokyo from getting, and use against the city.

His headache was getting worse.

“You want me to help you get the package back,” Haruka concluded, sighing out.

“Yes.”

“And you think that with one package you'll be able to tear down Tokyo, just like that.”

“We may both work against Tokyo, but you guys do it in a more pacifist way, and frankly, I don’t think you’re getting much done.” Haruka tensed angrily at that, but Yamazaki didn’t let him cut him off. “This whole delivering illegal information in the _hopes_ you’ll lessen the control Tokyo has over us isn’t working. What we need isn’t _hope_ , what we need is fucking _action_. We need immediate results, and I'm not saying getting that package back will do that, but it might fucking help us go in that direction. If we don’t, who knows what the hell the government will do with the intel that’s in that bag. Maybe all your efforts at, I don’t know, _legalising cigarettes_ or whatever it is you two do will be for nothing once they get their hands on that bag. Maybe it’ll be worse than that. I don’t know.” He ruffled his hair in frustration. "All I know is we get the bag, we stop Tokyo from fucking with our freedom even more."

Haruka opened his mouth, ready to retort, when he felt himself sway, eyelids drooping and head dizzy. Makoto caught his shoulders and steadied him, looking worried. On the other sofa, the chaser had let himself plop on his side and had started snoring softly. Yamazaki got up.

“Medication’s taking effect,” he muttered. “Induces a three-hour nap, then you’ll be back on your feet and as chipper as ever. I get the feeling you’re not a very chipper person though,” he snorted. “We’ll argue later.”

Makoto watched Yamazaki’s retreating footsteps, while Haruka was fighting back the ever-increasing drowsiness plaguing him.

“Stubborn as ever,” Makoto sighed, laying his friend on the couch. “Get some sleep, Haru-chan. We’ll think this through after.”

This was the worst time to sleep, Haruka thought blearily. He’d already crashed back at their previous place, he didn’t have _time_ to take another nap. His courier was out there and he needed to retrieve it _now_.

He didn’t have a say in this however, feeling his limbs and head grow heavy with lethargy.

Haruka closed his eyes, and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! No promises on when the next chapter will be uploaded but hopefully it'll be soon. 'orz


	9. Chapter 9

Haruka woke up with his face burrowed in the couch cushion and a set of blankets tangled around his legs, but without a trace of the headache that had been plaguing him for the past few hours nor the pain from his other previous injuries. Sighing, he nuzzled his face in the sot pillow for a while more, slowly shaking off the drowsy haze of sleep in his head before rolling around and getting up in a sitting position.

Stretching his arms up and his legs out in front of him, yawning all the while, Haruka had to admit that whatever Yamazaki had given him to drink beforehand, it was effective. He really wasn’t feeling any pain whatsoever in any of his limbs, and felt a bit energized as well. He brought a hand to his throat, rubbing it absently as he took notice of the empty couch in front of him.

“Haru! You’re awake!” a soft voice called out from behind him, and Haruka shifted around to see Makoto make his way towards him, small smile on his face. “How did you sleep? You’re not still hurting anywhere, are you?”

“I’m fine,” Haruka replied, bringing his hand up to his scalp to ease an itch, only to come into contact with his bandages. He huffed in irritation, and Makoto noticed, coming up to kneel before him.

“Those are probably bothering you. I can take them off—”

“I can do it myself, Makoto,” Haruka cut him off, proceeding to unroll the gauze around his scalp. His friend, whose hands had been hovering near him, lowered them and got back up, smiling.

“All right. I’ll make you some tea – Yamazaki-kun showed me around while you and Matsuoka-kun were resting – and I’ll let the others know you’re awake.”

Haruka didn’t answer, busy with his current task, and he heard Makoto bustle around the apartment’s kitchen, getting out mugs and a kettle. As he finished unwrapping the bandages and felt around his temple, were the wound had been, Haruka briefly thought of his favourite dolphin mug, abandoned along with other trivial belongings at their former home. He sighed, closing his eyes and bringing his arm down at his side.

He heard Makoto’s retreating footsteps, probably to where Yamazaki and Matsuoka were, followed by a few murmurs from down the corridor. Haruka heard his name in between the whispers, and felt his eyebrow twitch in annoyance, irked at the fact that they were talking about him.

Two new sets of footsteps accompanied those of Makoto when he came back to the living room, and when Haruka opened his eyes it was to see him with a brooding Yamazaki and a much livelier Matsuoka.

“Glad to see you’re up,” Yamazaki told him as he settled himself onto the sofa facing Haruka, the chaser plopping down next to him. Makoto had left, gone to grab the tea from the kitchen and setting it on the coffee table before taking the spot next to Haruka. “Time isn’t on our hands; we need to establish a plan to get back that bag quickly so you and Rin can get a move on.”

“What did you have in mind?” Haruka sighed out as he took the proffered cup of hot tea from Makoto, bringing it up and blowing softly to cool it. They’d probably figured something out while he was out of it, if Yamazaki was pushing them to hurry up.

“We came up with something,” Matsuoka answered, leaning forward with a grin. “Well, they did, anyway,” he added with a small nod of his head towards Yamazaki and Makoto. “I only heard the last parts of it since I got up just before you. But I’m in, so now you just gotta be on board with it too and we’ll be heading out in no time.”

Haruka internally rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his drink. It’s not like he had a choice whether he was on board or not. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“Good,” Yamazaki replied smoothly. “Here’s what’ll happen. You and Rin will have to run through the city to get the package. If you’re both consistent in the speed at which you’ll run, and if you don’t encounter too many problems, this should take you a few hours, tops. But since that’s obviously not likely to happen,” he continued, pressing a button on a wristwatch-like device on his arm, “we’re going to add a few precautions.”

A hologram fizzled out from Yamazaki’s device, a flickering map of Tokyo floating between the four men seated in the living room. Yamazaki removed the small gadget from his wrist and placed it on the coffee table, pushing on another button before returning to the blue map hovering before them.

“We are currently here,” Yamazaki pointed, and Haruka noticed a small blinking light on the hologram, right near the outskirts of Tokyo. “And you both need to get _here_ ,” he said, dragging his finger across the map until he stopped to their goal. “To the Tokyo Metropolitan Government building.”

“Which is impossible to get into,” Haruka interrupted. The building was nearly impenetrable; Haruka hadn’t even been able to run on nearby rooftops without getting caught during other missions because it was so heavy on security.

“Let me finish.” Yamazaki groused out. “You need to go there, because that’s the place the bag is most likely to get to. However, since it’s _so heavily secured_ , as I was _about to mention_ , and since we’re not completely sure it’ll land there, you’ll both have to go back to where you lost the package, to see if we can pick up anything that might help us.”

“That’s stupid.”

And it was, Haruka thought as Yamazaki tensed, fists curling in anger. If Yamazaki was telling the truth before and the government was aware of runners and chasers, then there were probably militia still guarding around the area he and Matsuoka had been fighting in, waiting for them to return in the hopes to retrieve the yellow courier bag. Going back there was just asking to get killed.

Before Yamazaki could retort or let Makoto calm things down, Matsuoka jumped in, effectively preventing another argument from ensuing.

“You really can’t stop being antagonistic between each other, huh,” he said with a grin and a light punch on Yamazaki’s arm.

“There’s probably soldiers guarding around the area,” Haruka shot back, placing his now empty mug on the coffee table. “We won’t be able to reach it safely.”

The chaser huffed, amused. “Don’t be such a downer. Come on, you’re fast, aren’t you?” he teased. “Escaped once; we can do it twice.”

“We nearly _died_.”

Matsuoka waved him off. “Pshh, details.”

“In any case,” Makoto cut in, sensing Haruka wasn’t about to let this go, “Haru-chan, this time you’ll be equipped with much more than before. Yamazaki-kun will give both you and me one of those hologram machines – uh, I’m not sure what they’re called—”

“They’re just watches with a few adjustments, they don’t really have a name,” Matsuoka supplied.

“Right. Well, we’ll both get one of those watches to stay in touch, and you’ll also get some of the medical supplies we used earlier, and other things to help you along the way. So it’ll be safer.”

“I won’t run as fast with that much equipment.”

Haruka was aware he was starting to sound petulant, what with the constant rebuttals to everyone’s plans, but what he was saying was true. He knew a plan like this would require more equipment and strategy, but Haruka was a runner; a quick and stealthy retrieval of the bag was better suited for him, and less messy to boot. At this rate their plan would guarantee someone was going to get hurt. Again.

“Everything you’ll get will fit in a small backpack. Cool it,” Yamazaki said, irate.

“Just hand over the stuff you can’t carry over to me and I’ll fit it in my bag,” Matsuoka chimed in. “I’m used to lugging around heavier loads.”

Haruka paused for a second, then nodded, resolute.

“Good. Now as I was saying, _if you’re done_ ,” Yamazaki said, glaring, “you’ll both get to the site of the attack. If we’re lucky the bag will still be there, but I highly doubt it. Find anything you can on a possible location of the package, then head out to a safer place. There’s a hideout near the building where some of our friends live; go there if you can. If all signs point to the TMG, then start running there. Otherwise, we’ll have to adjust our plans accordingly.”

“The place where you were caught by the militia is over here,” he continued, pointing to a location on the hologram further away from their current hideout. “So run there, find a quiet place to figure out our next move, then run either to here,” he pointed to the city’s government building, “or to wherever it is we think the bag is being carried to. Got it?”

“What will you and Makoto be doing?” Haruka asked.

“We’ll be staying here, communicating with you along the way through headpieces and tracking your steps,” Makoto answered, giving a small smile. “I don’t do much when it’s just us two, but I’ll try my best to help. We’ll let you know if there’s nearby militia around so you can avoid them while you’re running.”

“I’ll also try to see if I can get any more intel on Tokyo’s new anti-runner plan and what’s inside the bag,” Yamazaki added, stretching and rolling his right shoulder before getting up. “So, if we’re done here, let’s get moving.”

There were so many things wrong with this plan, Haruka thought. But it was the only one they had which they could agree on, so he didn’t have much of a choice. He got up.

“Alright,” he sighed out.

 

* * *

 

“Got everything, Haru-chan?” Makoto asked for the umpteenth time as Haruka finished tying his shoes, getting up and saddling his backpack over his shoulder.

“Don’t call me that,” he muttered, adjusting the straps of his bag. It was fairly light, considering all the things he’d packed. Next to him, Matsuoka had a similar bag slung over his shoulder, quietly speaking with Yamazaki.

They were both ready to leave and at the hideout’s entrance, having showered quickly and packed for their mission, and both feeling as healthy as ever, thanks to Yamazaki’s medical supplies. Haruka had with him two bottles of the weird substances that had been previously used on his injuries, along with a bottle of pills for quick pain relief and dissolving bandages and suture thread. He’d also packed a water bottle, a small handgun and a detonator. The special wristwatch device was secured on his right forearm, like an armband, and he had a small earpiece shaped like a computer chip clipped on his ear which would allow him to communicate with everyone. He just had enough space in his bag for the courier, once they’d retrieve it.

“I’ll be fine, Makoto,” Haruka said, noticing his friend’s worried frown, and his expression eased somewhat. Yamazaki, having finished giving whatever advice to Matsuoka turned towards them.

“Alright,” he declared, crossing his arms, “the run from here to where you were attacked should take you around four hours. From there to our friend’s place is around twenty minutes; make sure you’re not seen otherwise they’ll have to move out and find another place to hide. We’ll talk then, and figure things out from there. If you do end up going to the Tokyo government building, that’ll be another three hour run from your standpoint. That’s obviously if you don’t run into too much trouble on your way.”

“Got it,” Matsuoka said with a thumbs up, flipping the hood of his sweater over his head.

“Good,” Yamazaki replied. “And if you run into anyone, make sure you’re either not seen or they’re taken care of. Doesn’t matter if they’re a runner, chaser or militia; we can’t trust anyone we don’t know.” Haruka frowned at the advice; while he was alright with defending himself against the government, he was uneasy with the idea of offing other runners.

Yamazaki turned away, making his way to the corridor. “I’ll contact Gou and let her know you guys might be meeting up with her. Good luck.”

Makoto stayed as Yamazaki left, the worried crease between his eyebrows having returned.

“I know you always are,” he laughed out quietly, “but please be careful, Haru-chan.” He gave Haruka a brief hug before turning to the chaser, scratching the back of his head nervously. “You too, Matsuoka-kun.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Matsuoka assured. “We’ve got each other’s backs. Right?”

“Right,” Haruka mumbled, looking out to the side and through the entrance window. It was pitch black outside. Not surprising, since it was around eleven at night.

Matsuoka huffed and said nothing else, opening the front door to the hideout. He stepped out into the night and hopped around a few times, warming up. Haruka followed him, feeling the cool night air against his face, and turned back to face Makoto. He gave him one last reassuring smile and a small wave. “See you soon.”

Makoto smiled back, albeit a little less assuredly. “Yeah. See you soon, Haru.”

His friend closed the door, and Haruka was met now only with the dark skies of Tokyo and the quiet chirping of crickets nearby.

Well, that was that, then.

Next to him, the chaser was still warming up, and Haruka imitated him, not wanting a cramp to hinder him while they ran, quietly watching his companion all the while. The chaser stretched his arms up, his sweater riding up as he did so, and Haruka noticed the sliver of skin peeking through, where the bullet had hit him. The skin was pale, almost translucent-like where the moonlight hit it. It looked as if Matsuoka hadn’t even been shot those few hours ago.

The chaser lowered his arms, finished with his stretching, and Haruka stopped his own warm up, eyes quickly skirting away from where he had been staring. Matsuoka grinned towards him.

“Ready?”

Haruka nodded.

“Great,” Matsuoka grinned even wider, his teeth glinting sharp in the night. “Let’s get this party started.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait..... m(_ _;)m
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely kudos and comments! The action returns next chapter, which will be up... someday... OTL
> 
> I was thinking of putting this story on hiatus so I could flesh out the plot of the story in its entirety, since I feel terrible making you all wait for updates. If I do, it'll take a while for chapter 10 to be uploaded (possibly longer than it's already taken me to post other chapters ^^'), but the following updates would be much speedier. Please let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> What do I do instead of updating my other fic (I'll get back to it soon, I promise!) and studying for my upcoming exams? Start another fic, of course.
> 
> It'll become more apparent in later chapters, but points to those who guess where this AU is inspired from!


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